Page 6 of Jack Frost
Chapter Five
“Okay, how do I look?”
I pull the visor on the passenger side down and slide the switch over to the left to turn the little light on. Sammy did my makeup. I’m all dolled up, which is so not like me. Usually for class I’ll just do some tinted moisturizer, black mascara and some lip gloss so I look like I didn’t just roll out of bed.
Tonight I have smoky shadow with black cateye liner and bright red lips.
“You look amazing. Jack is going to lose his shit when he sees you.” Sammy has her long blonde hair done in loose beachy waves, with dark maroon lips and just simple black eyeliner and mascara.
“It’s not too much?” I ask, turning my face to the right and the left to scrutinize myself from every angle.
“No,” she says. “Just enough. Now let’s go.”
We hop out of the car where we’ve parked around the corner from Jack’s house. He lives in a guesthouse on his parents’ property where he’s stayed since he was fourteen. Back in college his parents weren’t around much, and when they were, they were fighting. Or, at least that was the buzz around him. He turned out pretty okay, being a star on the football team and doing well with his band. But there was something always a little distant in his eye. Something that said there were hidden depths to him. Like he was more than just the pretty boy in a small town.
Careful to balance in my high heels, Sammy and I walk around the block and past the main house to Jack’s place about a hundred feet behind it in a clearing on their property amidst acres of trees. I always knew his family had money, but I never realized how nice the place was because I’d never been this near it before.
We walk up to the house, the path from the road in front of it paved with white stones, a trail of colored lights framing the path. Right up ahead of us is Jack’s house, dripping in colored Christmas lights. It’s a little bit over the top for my taste, but honestly, it looks fabulous.
“Sex isn’t compulsory, right?” I say, my heart beating super hard and butterflies going crazy in my stomach.
“I thought this was our tradition,” Sammy says, stopping and turning to me. “We get to let loose for one night a year. Stop being so uptight. You never had any reservations about this night before.”
“I know,” I say, looking over at the house, the party spilling out onto the front lawn. “But it’s different this time. Because it’sJack, you know? Weknowhim.”
“We don’t know him that well, babe,” Sammy says, rubbing my upper arm with her mittened hand. “We know of him, but it’s not like we ever have to see him again if we don’t want to.”
“I know, I know.” I check my phone to see if he’s texted me. Nothing. “But we do know him, kind of. Everyone in this town knows him. And it’s a small town, isn’t it?”
Sammy sighs and pulls her black pea coat tighter around her. “It’s not like you have to do anything if you don’t want to.”
“I know,” I confess, “but that’s the problem. I mean, have you seen him lately?”
“I don’t do social media,” she scoffs, laughing.
“I know. But I’m just afraid that if I do get in there and start talking to him, I won’t be able to help myself. You know, like I’ll lose control or something.”
“Hon,” she says, stepping closer to me and looking over at the house. “That’s the point. Now come on.”
I sigh shakily and look up at the house. This guest house is bigger than the house I grew up in. Hell, his powder room is probably bigger than my whole apartment.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do this. You’re right. It’s tradition.”
“That’s the spirit,” she says, leading the way to the front of the house.
We wave hello to a few people milling around on the front lawn and sitting on a long bench on the porch, drinking beers and chatting.
This is just a regular party. There’s nothing too scandalous going on. And this is exactly what Sammy and I were looking for - a way to leave all our day-to-day crap behind for just one night a year.
I just don’t know why this year it’s so hard for me.
We finally get to the front door and Sammy takes the liberty of ringing the doorbell. I stay back a little, checking my phone. Is it too late for me to tell Jack we can’t make it? He’s probably in his room making out with some gorgeous girl. He probably doesn’t even know I’m still coming. He probably forgot about me as soon as he invited me. He was just being nice, anyway.
The doorbell chimes a few melodic tones and the door swings open.
There’s Jack standing before us, in dark jeans and a thin white-t shirt.
He’s even hotter than I remembered.
